Mirror, my beautiful
by Wand
Summary: OS Slash. Harry lives in Blacks’ mansion since the end of his studies. The war rages. A new hope is revived in the Order when a strange mirror belonging to Harry begin to divulge informations about Deatheaters attacks. Translation


Mirror, my beautiful…

**Authors :** Artoung / Leviathoune

**Translator :** Wand

**Beta : **

**Pairing :** Harry Potter / Mirror

**Type :** Romance / Adventure / Angst

**Rating :** M (like Mirror)

I am a French girl and I am really fond of this fic. I would like to make you discover it. I hope there aren't too many mistakes.

**Summary :** OS Slash. Harry lives in Blacks' mansion since the end of his studies. The war rages. A new hope is revived in the Order when a strange mirror belonging to Harry begin to divulge informations about Deatheaters attacks. Translation.

Harry had just left the shower.

He slowly threaded each one of his protective clothing.

This evening, he had an appointment with Marc Blinder, a large influence man lately named at the ministry, to deliberate on some arrangements concerning of the bills aiming to protecting a little more the population.

As to each time he goes out, he prepared at worst by covering a behaviour especially manufactured for the combat against the black wizards.

The Ministry was however the best protected place from all England - after Hogwarts - but this was just in case.

Harry decided to prepare first a good coffee before apparating to the ministry when he saw something unusual in the corridor.

The large mirror which he had hung to the wall when he had moved in the HQ of the Order - still and always this old hut of the Grimmaud Square - drew his attention.

The polished surface had suddenly started to cool at eye sight.

The white frost invaded it edge in edge, but this was not the detail more surprising : gradually, an inscription appeared on the wall, as if a transparent personn was held in front of Harry wrote with the end of the finger some words… a sentence…

It is a trap 

"What? " Harry started, dismayed by this appearance.

This mirror, he had received it in gift of birthday in preceding Christmas - he was still in Hogwarts at that time.

There was no name on the chart fixed on the package, only some words were registered there: _Take care, if not this is seven years of misfortune. _

The mirror seemed of a very invaluable invoice and for a long time, Harry had believed that this was a Dumbledore's gift, a mysterious gift with the fabulous magic properties. This was well his kind.

However to the wire of the months, nothing had occurred, and the mirror had remained, simply hung with the wall of the corridor of the 12 Grimmaud Square.

He had kept it because some share this mirror was one of the vestiges of his years in Hogwarts and Merlin alone knew at which point he missed them terribly.

He did not sleep any more with his friends, he only met combatants just like him.

Even he missed Draco Malfoy, him and his ceaseless sarcastic remarks which had the gift of exasperate him were, with the passing, an integral part of his life over there.

But Draco Malfoy had become a Deatheater shortly after that his father was imprisoned in Azkaban, he was now an enemy to be cut down, just like the other carriers of the Mark of Darkness…

The message traced on the ice was erased, bringing back Harry to reality, then was replaced again by white frost and another message.

Marc Blinder is a Deatheater 

Harry tried to remain impassive. In front of him, in this dark office and well off all, Marc Blinder spoke to him joyfully about his bill. He had evil to believe that this jovial man was a Deatheater which tightened a trap to him, but if he referred about the word of the mirror he was at least to remain on his guards. He was not stupid at the point not to take with serious council. Even if this one came from a strange object… There were thus members of the Order posted not very far if, however he hoped sincerely that all is not that a huge joke - he particularly did not want to have to fight still today - but at the end of a few minutes, whereas Harry was plunged in the reading of a file, Blinder was drawn up brutally and pointed his wand on him. He did not have time to pronounce only one word which two Aurors entered with crash the part while Harry pronounced a spell of disarmament.

We stopped Blinder and we questioned him. He was indeed Mangemort and he had for aim to kill Harry Potter. The war had become extensive and Harry had to always expect this type of attack. Voldemort seemed to have like ultimate objective, more than to see died Harry, to make him completely paranoiac… Well, of course, he was not yet completely there, but this is what was likely to arrive if Voldemort did not cease sending assassins to him. However, Harry did not want to really become like Alastor Mad Eye. He laughed gently while thinking to howl with any end of field "CONSTANT VIGILANCE! "

When he entered at his place, this was already late. He did not cease thinking of his mirror… There was after all a whole person somewhere which had just saved his life by the means of this object. He was standing in front of and saw only his reflection. There was nothing any more writing. In fact besides this morning, it had not produced anything of special than a merry cluster of dust. The mirror seemed to be become again completely normal. It was large and rectangular, taking an important place on the wall, Harry could almost see himself there on one level. It was beautiful also, if as well is as we are interested in esthetics of a mirror: enchased within a wood framework, carved vegetable arabesques, we saw there from time to time, to appear suddenly some sculptures of small animals which observed the passers with a curious air. This time, this was rather him which looked at the mirror curiously. He sought an index on what happened the morning…

This was the same evening that he decided to place the mirror in his room. He thought that if something happened again, he would have more luck to see it, according this was the place of the house where he generally remained.

The next morning, his glance was directed immediately towards the mirror posed on a trunk by ground with the angle of a wall to discover a new inscription there: someone indicated to him the place and the hour of a new attack of Deatheaters…

Just like the first time, the information appeared exact, and Harry, day after day, discovered informations on Voldemort and his henchmen. The Order of the Phoenix won more battles, and for the first time for a long time Harry started to foresee a glimmer of hope in this war.

He thus spent much time in front of this mirror. Certain times, there were nothing and he could not be prevented from feeling disappointed. What he preferred, and until he waited sometimes so a long time, this was the sight of the words which were registered, letter after letter, on glass. He knew at this time that his advisor was to be writing to him and that pleased stupidly him. There was not any doubt for Harry that the advisor, was a Deatheater. This person betrayed his (her ?) Master to help them, he (she ?) risked even his (her ?) life by doing that… And Harry wondered why. In any case, this person had envisaged his blow for a long time because he had received the mirror in last Christmas. He also wondered why the person in question had absolutely not appeared before, and he wanted especially to know which gave him all his information. He had an ally among the Deatheaters and he did not even know it. Since the death of Snape, the Order did not have any more any spy… this help was more than unhoped…

One evening something changed in the Harry's sad routine. This evening, he had returned at his place accompanied by an unconscious of the war muggle and ready to spend a little good time with him.

The girl was pretty and chuckled stupidly. Harry also - they had drunk perhaps a little too much, this evening. He wanted her, he was certain, and she wanted him, or he would not have brought back her at his place. Hardly the door of entry was crossed that the girl threw herself on his lips. He hastened to answer her while demolishing the zip fastener of her black dress.

While being stripped, chuccking, rubbing, they arrived in front of Harry's room. The girl plated herself a little more against him. He wanted so much…

He threw a short glance on the mirror by pure automatism - no message. He was going to be able to continue this evening quietly and to have torrid sex with this perfect unknown factor…

The unknown factor in question was removing his trousers to him and he could only panted noisily whereas she came very close to his sex. He rejected the head behind whereas she put a condom to him and believed that his legs were going to release him when the lips of the girl were posed on his painful erection.

Merlin, this was good !

Only the pleasure which he felt counted at this moment, he forgot the war, blood, deaths and this was even more pleasure than the mouth of the girl on him. They were found on the bed and he let her overlap him, being satisfied to look at her moving and to cherish her. She had the soft skin and her moanings charmed him. She said to him that he was well assembled and that she adored that and that excited him. This was just sex but this was good. He was going to come at the rate from the movements from hips from his partner. He intended her to shout and felt her flesh to be tightened around him. He was cambered violently by opening wide the eyes whereas he enjoyed in the condom.

Yes… this was delicious.

He kissed his partner with heat all while being withdrawn from hers body. He sat down on the bed and withdrew his condom, the spirit still very tangle of pleasure. This is only when he raised the head which he saw the mirror.

An aggressive hand seemed to have slipped on the white frost like erasing something. He approached without too much knowing why he trembled. Yes, this was well a trace of hand, the first was very clear and the hand had slipped on along the mirror. Someone had wanted to write something to him and someone had erased the word.

Because he was sleeping with a girl ?

He almost religiously placed his hand on the mark of that of the other, as so thus he could touch him but he felt only cold surface. A strange impression of culpability went up to him to the throat. He did not have any account to however return to his advisor! He could sleep well who which he wanted ! He sighed, no… the other had not seen him… he had just ideas.

He waited a long time sitted in front of the hoping mirror, without believing in it too much, to see a new message appearing, but nothing came. He heard hardly his guest to leave while treating him of narcissistic eccentric, but he did not move. He just hoped that he did not come from missing an important information… and that he had not just wasted all.

Harry had waited, ambushing behind a low wall close to the railway, surrounded by other combatants of the Order and Aurors, for a few hours now.

One of their manufacturers of magic wands was to restock them by a special convoy, but he should already have arrived for a long time, however nothing come…

When suddenly an attack started.

From the Deatheaters came from apparate exactly in front of them on the way.

They had already made explose the rails when Harry howled the attack.

He had badly.

A piece of iron blown by the explosion had been planted in his belly.

That did not prevent him to expert like a devil against the Deatheaters.

After one minute of baited combat, he was driven back against a wall by three threatening black wizards - men, if he believed their silhouettes.

He suffered as much as his vision was however scrambled, that his senses were put out of order, but he could not fail then he rectified his wand and warded off the magic spells by setting up a shield.

He did not let the Deatheaters recover from their surprise - they had believed him finished, they were wrong - they would pay their error of their life - and he charged them instantaneously.

One of them fell under the blow from his _Avada Kedavra_.

Yes, now he could launch the magic spell of death perfectly, he had the assent of all - except his conscience.

He tried to control the second, but this one was sharper this time, the senses perfectly in alarm. The Deatheater leaps on the side to avoid Harry's fates and disarmed the Survivor without any problem with an _Expelliarmus_.

Blown, being really smelled lost, he measured his enemies, awaiting the Unforgivable one who would not delay. He was a little weary to observe the esclaffer laughing once more as a demented person… but at this point in time a foolish thing occurred.

The third servant of the Lord of Darkness, which remained a little in withdrawal, was turned over against the second to his sides and killed him with an _Avada Kedavra_ almost inaudible.

He approached slowly, of a step that Harry qualified in a corner of his spirit of flexible and elegant. He wondered what was going to arrive to him.

The Deatheaters had certainly killed his companion to allot the merits of Harry Potter's capture, he was going to take him along to see his Master and he would undergo all worst tortures and humiliations before returning the heart…

His fears were justified when the enemy bent down, without releasing him for all that the glance, to collect his wand, thus removing him last and thin chance to him roll-to swell skilfully on the side to tear off hands of the dead sound arms and to leave himself from this trap.

This Deatheater should be a sadist, he always approached with this unbearable slowness…

He did not release his glance. Moreover the Deatheater's eyes were the only part of his face which Harry could see through the gracious cut out slits in their smooth and white masks.

Because of the hood folded back on the head of the man, he could not really see the color of his eyes but to distinguish a certain intensity rather there.

The pupils of the man seemed, as for all the others, to shine of a certain gleam of madness and anger; however Harry did not fail, he also looked at him, awaiting his destiny…

… which occurred in a way very... particular

The Deatheater threw his wand at his feet with a ragor gesture before apparating.

He came, actually, purely and simply, to save his life.

The time that Harry carries out that, his companions of the Order pounced on him and grabbede him by the arms to oblige him to apparate and to flee the battle.

They took him along to the Grimmaud Square where he was quickly threated.

After that, Harry precipitated towards his room and the mirror.

… It was always there, simple object, a little dusty, posed on the trunk with the angle of the room.

Harry approached the ice and put himself at knees in front of him.

He gently cherished the woodworks of the end of the finger, frightening the small animals and closing the flowers on his passage.

Then he gently tightened his mouth against glass and blew his hot breath to make a small round of mist.

With his finger, he traced a simple word.

Thank you 

Nothing occurred, Harry raised the shoulders wondering whether if that had worked.

He rose and went towards his cupboard to strip and slip on a tee-shirt and a comfortable jogging for the night.

When he turned over towards the corner of the part, his message on the mirror had disappeared.

Another had also took his place, very short too, in a small circle of mist.

No problems 

Every day…

Every day the same thing.

Harry rose, he got dressed.

Sometimes the mirror had a message for him, sometimes not.

In these cases, he goes blindy for the mission of the day by registering on glass a transitory message.

This morning, Harry rose, like always.

He get undressed and went to the bathroom to wash him - nobody of the Order used this floor, he could go naked in his house, couldn't he ?

When he returned, he was still very oozing, a small towel between his hands, he dried violently his hair even blacker to be wet.

Then he noticed the puddle pool of white frost on the ice.

A message was being registered.

By pity, Potter! Thread pants ! 

This morning, Harry did not have any more any doubt.

The person behind the mirror, the Deatheater which helped him, this person could see him.

Without knowing well why an image came to him.

He drove out it at once.

This was impossible that this is him…

However that enough resembled to him… and wasn't he a recognized Deatheater ?

His face will redden from one ear to another and he slipped, his towel around the size, to nimbly get dressed.

When he returned in front of the mirror, another inscription was visible on the white frost.

This evening, in the old carters of muggle London, there will be an attack 

Harry sighed, that was not going to be simple to protect all them.

There would be surely many of died… teenagers would trail in the streets animated at the time of the attack, perhaps even of the children also.

The message was erased and Harry registered to his.

And you, you will be there ? 

At the end of a long moment, Harry read finally an answer.

I do not have the choice 

The attack had been terrible, but the Aurors had finally win the battle. He had returned at his place wounded and disgusted. He was afraid also, therefore he assembled four to four the steps of his staircases while trying to forget his pain with the arm. He had defied only Deatheaters whose silhouette did not correspond at all to that of his saver of the other day.

Yes, during the major part of the combat the stratagem had worked, until he was found vis-a-vis a Deatheater with the cat-like and ensured step. Same size… same pace… the same white mask, or perhaps not… Harry could only look at him, his wand trembling in his hand. He could not launch a fate on him… he could not make him hurt. And even if this were not him, he could not take this risk.

Since when his advisor had become so important for him ?

He had hesitated one moment of too, and the Deatheater opposite him had benefitted from it to launch a spell in his direction. Extremely fortunately he had been led to time on the side, but his arm had been touched. He had really believed that he was going to die when the man with the dark cape raised again his wand in his direction. But he suddenly saw him falling and howling under a plugging yellow light. Tonks had just saved his life and made him a large sign of the hand. He had joined her, hiding his wound and requesting so that the Deatheater failing was not his unknown with the mirror. Therefore he climbed so quickly now that he was at his place. He requested to have a word on the mirror, he requested so that he was left there unscathed.

He was still blown when he was found in front of reflective surface. Almost instantaneously a message appeared and the relief to know him in life made place with a deaf anger. Of which right was allowed him to insult him ?

Species of cretin, you should not hesitate in a battle field 

He closed the eyes and was satisfied to keep his calm but hardly reopened the mirror was frosted again, and the words began again of more beautiful.

_I seldom saw a similar imbecile ! _

Harry decided to be diverted before being really irritated. Why had he worried for him ? He sighed and started of a boring air to remove his top with an aim of going to lie down.

He would be washed tomorrow, for the moment he had really to sleep. He realized that he was really tired. He was going to put a fabric on the mirror and thus to cut the conversation when a new message was registered.

_You are wounded. Go to be treath. _

He automatically posed his eyes on his wound on the arm. This was true, he was wounded. He thought of going to be made look after the following day but he could not be prevented from being happy. Finally, if the unknown of the mirror had scream on him this was because he was made concern for him. Because he was important for him?

He launched the fate of white frost and registered end of the finger.

You worry for me ? 

He occurred a few seconds without he receive any answer, his heart beat with all to break. Then the words were registered and Harry's glance was done harder.

_Obviously, you are the only one being able to kill Voldemort and to release me. _

Thus, he was only one pawn. For this man as for all the others…

He had thought that…

… that with him that would be different.

He had been mistaken.

GET STUFFED !

He shouted on the mirror, and so much worse if the other could not hear him, he hoped ardently that he can read on the lips. He was irritated, tired. He had some enough of this war. Enough of this mirror. And enough of this type which dictated to him hiss control for better being useful himself of him.

_Go to be treath. _

Only repeat the mirror and Harry of a tired gesture covered it with thick fabrics. He wanted really to sleep and his head turned a little. He lengthened on the bed. He was going to sleep and tomorrow all would be better.

He was gently shaken less than one half an hour later by Ron Weasley.

"Harry… Harry awakes…"

Harry mumbled, trying to be inserted a little more in his bed. What did Ron want to him? The lessons were however not going yet to start…

"Ron… let me…"

"Not, Harry, go awakes. Someone said me that you were wounded. "

Harry awoke completely. He was not in Hogwarts and Ron was in his room… What did he do there ? Before he can say a word, Ron had already caught him by the arm and there spread out a greenish ointment.

"This is not very serious finally, he made me to fear for nothing the other idiot ! "

"Who ? "

"That one which called me by chimney ! He did not show his face and he changed his voice. He asked me to come at home, because you were wounded and refused to make you look after. "

Ron typed to him on the head.

"And he is not completely wrong " he began again " we should not let trail a wound Harry, even if this one with the inoffensive air ! "

"I suppose that this is the future medicomage who speaks ? " Harry mumbled.

"Not,this is the friend who speaks… should be more careful, Harry. "

Harry sighed. Ron was not completely wrong.

"You really do not know who spoke to you? "

Ron wrinkled the eyebrows seeming to reflect intensely.

"Hum… to tell the truth, his way of speaking was not unknown… he points out a small idiot… if you see what I want to say…"

He thought of making smile Harry by saying that, but this last was turning pale.

"But this is impossible " Ron like reassuring him added "Malfoy is a Deatheater, why would he help you ? …"

Harry only diverted the eyes on the vast mirror covered with fabric.

Yes… Why ?

Ron left few minutes after leaving Harry alone vis-a-vis his questions. He removed the curtain which covered the smooth surface.

He wanted to know…

He had to know!

He entreated an armchair and settled opposite the mirror. He pointed his wand on the smooth surface.

"Revelatum! "

Hum… No, no change, he saw only only his reflection.

There but if the other were able to also see him then he was to be able to arrive. During several minutes he tested various fates but none functioned. He seriously started to be irritated when mist was born on surface and let appear an inscription.

That would work, if you knew who I am 

Harry let these words be erased gently and only looked at the mirror. He saw himself, his too green eyes, his too fool hair and his a little slovenly clothes. And slowly, without leaving his own eyes of the glance, he launched the fate of icing on the polished surface.

Slowly, almost with devotion, he wrote with the end of his index the name of the man who asserted himself on his spirit.

And whereas his finger formed the letters one by one, his reflection was erased to leave place to another vision slowly. His heart beat more and more quickly. This was first of all only one translucent form, then whereas he completed to write he distinguished him more and more clearly.

Draco Malfoy 

He had not changed much since Hogwarts, even if therings seemed to tarnish his tormented gray eyes. The first thing which came to Harry's mind by seeing him nonchalant sitted on an armchair, was that Draco was really beautiful. The other looked him with a kind of stupor, as astonished that he managed to uncover him despite everything. He does not react immediately and Harry had all the leisure to look at him. He was delayed in spite of him on his pale lips, his white neck, his impeccable clothing, his fair pure hair, almost white, capped behind, and his eyes…

His eyes… so captivating…

He wanted to ask him why… He wanted to know why this man that he took for his enemy had helped him. Why Draco Malfoy did he help Harry Potter?

But he did not have time to raise only one question, his interlocutor rose of speed and disappeared out of his sight.

Harry remained a long time to look at the empty armchair opposite the mirror, but Draco did not return this night.

A few days later, Harry awoke by discovering a new message on the mirror. The heart full with hope, he ran on the object to look with through and to try to see the former Syltherin.

Disappointed, he stand up, there was nobody.

Just this stupid curtain which prevented him from seeing anything.

"Is he in his manor ? Elsewhere ? In the Voldemort's HQ itself ? " 

He remembered that the really important thing was the message registered on the mirror, he deciphered it and got dressed quickly to make of it share with Dumbledore and the council of the Order.

This time still, they succeeded in pushing back the attack.

Harry often wondered whether Voldemort would not end up putting all his Deatheaters under Imperium in order not to be betrayed - their small victories were well too repetitive to let plane the doubt.

The evening coming, Harry returned exhausted, ravaged, and grimy.

He went up at once on the floor and entreated an armchair in front of the mirror.

He was there.

He also was not as perfect as usually.

His hair fell to his face and of the rings dug his glance.

He was exhausted him too but his eyes shone always in the same way.

Harry now knew the fate which Draco used to write on the pane through the white frost.

He threw it and registered his question.

What do you do there? 

Draco did not make the least gesture to answer the question, on the contrary he was inserted with pleasure a little more in his armchair by supporting nonchalant his pointed chin in his hand, the elbow posed on the balustrade.

He did nothing but look at Harry with his mocker and penetrating manner… but… there was also a light expression of… of concern?

_You are there because you wanted to check if I was not wounded ?_ Harry wrote with a waving of his wand.

Drago still did not make mine to want to answer him anything, however he still waited… he did not give the impression to want to leave.

_Then let us see whether I am wounded… _

_This would not be necessary that "the only one able to kill Voldemort" die between yours fingers, would be ? _

By marking that on the white frost, Harry smiles to Draco.

He smiles to him, but not in an engaging or nice way, not innocent and Gryffindor manner.

This was even straightforwardly the opposite - the smile was ironic and causing, it sounded like an air of challenge.

Draco was inserted a little more in the armchair, like enjoying the spectacle, whereas the intensity of his glance increased…

Harry rectified himself.

He slowly raised his hands on his battle dress and began with removing each one of his fasteners.

Protections fell to one on the ground in a choked noise.

Harry knew that the other did not hear through the wall of the mirror then he did not say anything.

On his chest, there remained now nothing any more but one thin high black with collar and long sleeves, fireproofed, bewitched against the majority of the magic spells and fatal spells.

Harry removed it slowly, the fabric ran along his back and released finally all his chest in the felted light of the lamps.

He knew always that he was vaguely thin for a hero, but not unpleasant to look at, also dropped he far from him the fabric, being exposed in comparison with the traitor.

_You see, no wound,_ said he by the marks on the white frost.

Draco looked at him.

Yes, he looked at him.

The fair one clearly seemed more to never be able to detach his glance of him.

He had slightly leaned his head and was now raising the eyes towards him, whereas of a nonchalant gesture of the hand he hid in Harry a part of his face.

But the brown one was not easily deceived, he knew that the former Syltherin dissimulated an unquestionable embarrassment behind this haughty attitude.

He camouflaged his reddened cheeks in vain, he saw between his long fine fingers that he bit his lower lip.

And these eyes… These eyes did not hide anything.

These eyes, these two pearls of metal in fusion, obscured by… the desire.

Harry was sure…

Certain…

Perhaps you wish to check if I am not wounded elsewhere, Draco ? 

Draco agreed in a hardly perceptible way - to tell the truth it was only the gleam in his eyes which had slightly wavered with his reading of the message.

Then Harry continued to undress himself.

Slowly…

In his armchair, Harry languidness drew aside the legs in front of the mirror.

He one by one detached the buttons of his jean of a too major black to be muggle - this is well known, a black jean is never well a long time.

Harry had fun to liberally open the sides of his trousers, he also played to pass the inches under the rubber band of his pants making mine seek by there any wound.

Lastly, he recovered upright and the eyes of Draco followed the movement, rivetted some share in the neighbourhoods of his navel.

Harry released simply his trousers which fell to him nonchalant along his long legs finely muscular.

He smiles, he had just seen Draco swallowing, this was a divine feeling of being able…

of domination on Draco Malfoy…

Really delectable…

Perhaps that a Harry moment had smiles in a too proud way, too triumphing, because Draco now did not look at any more his body.

He had just rectified him also and both seemed as face to face, separated by the mirror.

Two quite different reflections…

One, almost naked in his boxer sinks slicing with his pale skin delicately darkened under the muscles which traversed him.

The other, wearing still his long and full black cape, shoulders covered by the heavy hood.

Draco approached a little more and blew against the pane to reveal a little mist before slowly writing end of the finger revealing the letters at the place on the side of Harry.

Thus I see that all is well 

Draco smiles him also mocking, victoriously.

He took his wand and threw the fate which wrote in the white frost on the pane.

Then I will lie down, Potty 

"Harry " a voice full with sob exclaimed "Harry ! Open the door. "

This was Hermione Granger, his friend and this was quite normal that in such circumstances she tries to comfort him.

He did not want to be comforted !

He was inconsolable !

"Leaves me ! Leave me alone ! " the brown one howled while knocking against the door of his room with rage "I do not want to see anybody ! Leave me ! "

He intended his friend to leave while crying in the staircases, then he let him go on his bed by howling his rage.

He inserted his face in tears in a cushion, his fingers contracted in the mattress, and he screamt still and still.

After one moment, his tiredness was right of his despair, and he could only groan and gently cry over all his disillusions…

Draco…

Why did he think of him, brothel ?

The vision of the fair one was essential on his spirit.

He wanted so much… so much desire that he is there.

If only…

He raised on the elbows and his eyes still poured bitter tears along his cheeks.

He was there.

Harry saw the white frost invading the pane and was erased slowly and reappearing.

As if an animal behind the mirror blew a frozen breath.

As if he wanted simply to show him his presence without knowing that to say.

What could he say in all…

There was nothing to say…

Harry approached the mirror while trying to wipe his tears without reaching that point, some news replaced the preceding ones unceasingly.

As he had thought it, Draco was there, with knees behind the mirror the wand in the hand and on the face a worry expression… straightforwardly distressed.

Once again Harry found him very beautiful, and yet his eyes seemed so tired, so anxious.

Curiously, that tightened his heart painfully - he was well far, the Draco Malfoy unconscious and pedant who sauntered like a prince in the corridors of Hogwarts.

Draco had just posed his hand against the mirror and Harry also knelt him vis-a-vis his strange reflection.

He posed his palm against Draco's and burst again in tears.

Of shame, he hid the face behind his other hand, but he continued to cry.

"He was the only one which was still there… The only, Draco, the only friend of my father still in life. He will die, I feel it… I saw him… He is so much… pale… and blood everywhere. And the full moon was only two days ago… he is too weak… he will die…"

Harry knew that Draco could not hear.

He did not know if he precisely spoke because of that or not.

It doesn't matter.

Against his hand oddly, he did not seem to feel cold glass.

Against his hand, he felt the heat of another hand.

He did not dare to open the eyes and to look at.

He preferred to stay in the doubt and to keep this heat as long as possible.

Draco stayed in front of the mirror a long time until late in the night and even after Harry fell asleep, he still remained to look at him pouring tears in his sleep.

Still an attack, still blood, still of the cries and spells which fused of all shares. Harry hoped that Draco was left there. He looked at a deatheater of the corner of the eye. He was sure that it was him. He had seen him launching a spell of hook in leg on another hiding enemy who sprang towards Neville. Then he had been diverted the air of nothing, primarily launching spells of immobilization, sleep or disarmament in Aurors.

Sometimes, he really wounded them. He had surely already had to kill some to save his life; in time of war there were not the choice.

The Deatheater - Harry was sure that this was Draco - had just received a spell in full head. Harry had not been able to prevent himself from pushing a cry of fright but the Deatheater retained simply his mask which had been split into two, revealing his identity a little. This was well Draco.

Then he had turned his head towards him and had apparating whereas three new spells fused in his direction. Harry had not ceased thinking of him, even during the fight. Was Draco well ? Was somebody there to look after him ? He had the impression to have seen running blood along the white mask.

Also as soon as he could it, once the battle finished, he left his friends and precipitated at his place. He took hardly time to withdraw his cape before climbing and arriving finally in front of the mirror.

Draco was already there, and Harry could not prevent himself from pushing a sigh of relief. He seemed to be well, if this is not that his hairstyle was different. His fair hair fell in smooth wicks nonchalamment on his face and his nape of the neck. Harry noticed for the first time that Draco carried finally rather long hair. They seemed so soft thus released from their freezing.

Draco was satisfied to look at him. Just the knowledge there, opposite him, to see him, filled up Harry of funny of emotion. He liked to see the fair one, he liked to speak to him, it had almost become a drug. But what he would have really liked, this was… to touch him.

Harry swallows. His thoughts were mislaid dangerously but the fact was there. Since the famous evening when he had, in one moment of madness, carried out a striptease in front of the former Syltherin, he thought more and more of him in the bad manners. This evening, this one of the striptease, he had wanted of the fair one, he had wanted his hands posed on him, his lips, his body which he could not that to guess under his door wraps. He wanted Draco and he liked each second spent to his sides.

Harry was afraid. He was falling in love with Draco Malfoy. He briefly shook the head and sitted on the armchair. He launched the spell of white frost and started to write.

Are you wounded ? 

Draco had a small smile and of a boring gesture, he raised his fringe revealing at Harry's eyes a white binding which made the turn of his head. Draco's smile intensified.

I am wounded only on the head… Thus… you will not see me being undressed in front of you 

Harry started to redden, he had to acknowledge that it had crossed his spirit. To imagine Draco slowly lighten his clothing, one by one, under his eyes… This was not the moment to think of that, Draco was wounded.

Did somebody look after you ? 

The answer arrived rather quickly.

_Yes. The Deatheaters also have goods medicomages _

Harry had a new sigh of relief.

Good, but you would be more careful the next time 

Draco had an astonished air then made him a small half smile.

I inform you so much well that our missions become increasingly dangerous 

This was true that the Order and the ministry frequently put at evil the army of Voldemort. The end of the war had a close air. Maybe he would then be authorized to see Draco differently than behind a mirror. Yes, if he was left there… he would see Draco… and he would say to him that…

He was not there, for the moment he preferred speech of less awkward subjects, also hastened he to write again on the mirror.

Is this painful ? 

Draco raised the shoulders before answering of the waving of the wand.

Potter, I am not a kid… this was only a spell of low intensity 

Draco played him the blow of the male that nothing reaches and Harry could not prevent himself from laughing.

_This is not the memory which I have of you. Buckbeak "tore off you" the arm in third year! _

Draco took an outraged air and showed his pretty major at Harry who laughs more.

"_Humm, this is when you want, Draco"_ thought he, but of course he did not write it. However when Draco raised an eyebrow heard in his direction, Harry wondered whether he could read in his spirit and could not prevent himself from reddening once again.

Harry was very anxious.

For two weeks he had not had any more a news of Draco; the mirror had remained hopelessly empty, the only thing which he saw when he approached close to the pane was a very dark curtain, but nothing more.

Sometimes, he had not no news of the Deatheater, but that started to become very worrying because yesterday they had wiped an attack and Draco had not prevented him.

He had not had the impression to see him among the black wizards, and identified deaths did not correspond to his description.

What happened ?

"_Draco, what are you doing ? " _

"_Are you wound ? " _

"_Are you dead ? " _

Harry thought and wrote often all that, but still not of news.

The only returns which he received were this layer of dust, increasingly important each day.

One evening, whereas Harry looked at the mirror with the back of his mattress, lengthened on the back, the head reversed with the foot of the bed, he had the impression to see a shade passing.

He fell to the shift and precipitated from there on the ice.

He was there !

He was alive !

His relief quickly left place again to an immense concern.

Draco was so tired, exhausted.

The rings under his eyes of a gray intensely pale were violets and too much dug.

His hair was dirty and fell to him in dry wicks in front of the eyes.

His clothing also were covered with mud and dust, torn in several places.

For the first time Harry saw on the arm of Draco the Mark of Darkness and that froze blood to him.

Blood was coagulated on his temple and everywhere on his clothes, his blood and surely that of another.

"Undoubtedly one of his victims" Harry thought his eyes more and more opened wide.

He resembled a poor wretch doped in lack, an escaped prisoner, a beaten child … a fallen angel.

_What happened ?_ he registered on the white frost.

This was strange to see that his spell betrayed his emotions, the sentence was very wobbly and trembling.

That made smile Draco slightly.

Too much slightly…

Something did not go at all, Harry felt it.

Draco sat down as a tailor on the ground vis-a-vis the mirror and started to write.

The sentences followed one another one.

_Voldemort is known betrayed by one of his best Deatheaters _

_He does not want any more to trust us _

_We were joined together all together and the Master punished us _

Harry quivers when he lute that, he did not know if this was because Draco appointed Voldemort the Master or if this was because of what he imagined the lord of Darkness perfectly to subject to his Deatheaters - hadn't heobserved it hundreds of times in dream ?

For the first time he thought Draco crawling with knees in front of his Master, a little as he had seen doing Deatheaters in fourth year on Jedusor's tomb…

He imagined Draco receiving _Doloris_ still and still, and to undergo all kinds of things the worse ones than the others…

We were locked up in the dungeons 

_I did not drink anything nor eaten during I do not know how much days _

_I could not warn you of their attack and Voldemort thus knew that the traitor was indeed among us _

One among us was to die, we knew it 

_I thought I will die this day there, but that was not held thus _

A veil of sadness and incomprehension passed in the glance of the former Syltherin.

"What happened ? " Harry asks aloud, he knew that Draco would understand and would continue his morbid account.

My friends saved me 

_They had envisaged this blow for a long time, they had not spoken me _

_They put in Goyle's spirit false memories_

_And when the Master questioned us again he had not taken the antidote of Veritaserum _

_He made purposely _

_He did that to save me and me I killed him _

Harry was horrified, disgusted to think Draco cutting down, a cold mask on the face, his friend…

He did not even know that Syltherins had such bonds.

He was destroyed, and he could not consider only what Draco was to feel.

This was as if he had being obliged to kill Ron, he could never have done that, he would have preferred to burst.

The fair one seemed like reading in his thoughts.

_It was too late _

He had already acknowledged 

_I could only accept their plots _

_I know what you think Potter, but me I could not save him_

_I am not like you _

_I killed him and his blood is everywhere on me_

Joining the epic to the word, Draco will touch on the blood on his face.

Harry did not outline any gesture, not even that of tightening the hand for him.

He also disgusted him, but he realized only at which point Draco was dark.

He in vain tried to help him, he wondered whether the fair one could recover from the phantoms which haunted him, if he would pass in addition to all this blackness.

"_Can I help him too ? " _ he wondered.

Draco, the glance a little insane, rose to let Harry, like that.

He did not need compassion, he did not have either the right to be comforted.

He did not deserve it…

Right before leaving him, he was turned over last once and registered an ultimate sentence.

A request.

Please, kill him, that all is finished finally 

He wasn't able to tighten a helping hand to Draco, but this request, he would test of all his forces, of all his heart, to carry it out.

Several days passed, Harry and Draco had taken the practice to speak themselves each evening when this was possible, and the morning as they wake up; they even sometimes happened to them to dialogue the day when the opportunity arose.

This evening, Harry knew that he should play tight. The Order and the Aurors even hoped the night to carry the largest attack against Voldemort and his Deatheaters. If all occurred well, this battle would be the last. If all occurred well, tomorrow the war would be finished.

Harry was afraid, of course. He was going to have to face Voldemort, this night, he was going to have to kill him or die. But what frightened him still more that his own death, was Draco's. Harry did not want that Draco leaves to fight. He did not want that he takes part in this battle. He did not want to lose him.

He had to wait good half an hour in front of the mirror before seeing him appearing. The former Syltherin as usual was installed nonchalant on his armchair and Harry as usual had to be prevented from devouring his eyes. In the place, he hastened to write, they did not have much of time in front of them.

This night, we will attack 

Draco shook the head before answering.

I suspect it, there is agitation much on our side… 

Harry decided to take his courage with two hands, he was going to ask Draco not to come to the battle. It was necessary that he persuades him.

Don't go fighting 

Good blood ! He could even beg him not not to go there. He did not want to lose him. He had already too much lost… then not him… not, not him…

This is also my war 

Draco did not release him glance and Harry wanted to cry. He was not going to listen to him and Draco's words on the white frost made him almost badly with the eyes.

He was wrong… this was not their war… but they were there.

I do not want that you would be wounded 

Not to cry… Not to cry… He was so afraid…

Why ? 

Draco had approached and he seemed to scan him more intensely, as astonished that the great Harry Potter was about to cry.

Harry had a small smile and sniffed pitiful, Draco's eyes seemed to excavate his heart.

Perhaps for the same reason that which pushed you to help me 

Draco smiles gently, tenderly and Harry felt his heart to be tightened even more. Draco's lips moved to form the words

"Perhaps…"

Then, Draco leaned his bust towards the mirror and without Harry knowing how, he saw leaving the mirror Draco's pale arms followed by his chest and his head. He remained petrified whereas gently Draco caught his nape of the neck to bring him closer to him. And without a word, the former Syltherin advanced his face towards his, Harry could now smell his breath on his lips… He closed the eyes, he should be dreaming.

Draco's mouth was posed gently on his and Harry slackened. Slowly, the lips moved against his mouth. This was the softest kiss and his heart trembled. Always with a delicious delicacy, Draco passed his tongue on his lips, and in a sigh Harry opened the mouth to accomodate him. He wanted to cry, and, in a moaning, he intensified the kiss. This was too good, too extremely… This was not possible.

Merlin, that he loved him !

Draco's hand in his hair was contracted a little whereas Harry was detached slowly from him. They gently breathed face against face, the eyes in the eyes, and their lips not seeming to only want to meet again.

Draco cherished gently his cheek.

"Be careful" he blew before being moved back.

With a feeling of despair Harry saw Draco turning over on his side of the mirror. The gray eyes looked him with a sad air whereas the two hands plated on the ice he tried to join him in his turn.

Why that didn't work with him?

Draco…

The former Syltherin threw a last glance to him before lowering the heavy curtain while sighing, thus cutting him to his sight.

The final battle was going to start…

The battle began in the twilight. Harry did not see the sun rising this day.

He had fallen, his mission accomplished, well before the paddle.

Voldemort was not any more, and the magic world already started to bandage its wounds.

Harry did not see that either, he was in the coma prolonged by the potions of sleep.

The **médicomages** waited two weeks before enabling him to awake.

With his bedside, Harry found his friends, Hermione and Ron, as well as the surviving members of the Weasley family.

As formerly in Hogwrts' infirmary, with many gifts, candies and bouquets strewed the tables around him.

Hermione told him how he had overcome the ultimate black magus.

Harry did not remember it, after all this was so much better.

The only thing which he remembered, this was to have located the silhouette of Draco among the Deatheaters.

He remembered some very well, because once more he had seen him being turned over against his similar.

Harry was afraid by seeing him giving up his clothes and his mask - certainly, the Aurors did not aim him any more, but nothing any more protected him either.

Around him, he seemed to him to distinguish known faces, Crabbe, Parkinson and another of which he did not remember any more the name.

A scene of the battle had been repeated in his spirit, tireless, during his comatic sleep.

It had been held in loop during an infinite time, so much so that he tested nothing any more but dislike.

In this memory, which he hoped for deformed, Draco Malfoy collapsed, unconscious, - he did not want to think dead' - under the shootings of Voldemort's faithfuls.

After that, he did not remember strictly nothing, with share, perhaps, an impression of fury and total loss of control.

This day there, he revealed with all, his friends, his companions of the Order, the Aurors, the journalists and all the representatives of the Magic Ministry who had hurried to come the congratuler to his wake up, which had helped him.

Draco Malfoy and the other Deatheaters had helped him.

During months, the former Syltherin had informed him on the tactics and Lord Voldemort's plans of attacks.

As he was The-One-Who-Has-Triumphed, everybody believed him beyond his hopes.

He begged that we find Draco Malfoy and as of new pullings of **the Gazette of the Wizards**, his request had been printed in heavy type.

Died or alive, there was no news of the spy, nowhere.

Parkinson had been killed, but Crabbe, which had been captured by theAurors because of his mark, was questioned and he also told him that Draco gave information to the Order of the Phoenix.

Crabbe was released from Azkaban, as well as the other Deatheaters, even if the emaciated young man appeared rather inclined to remain shut gloomily in his manor that to benefit from his freedom.

Harry spent his days to scan Draco's mirror unnecessarily.

His friends worried more and more as the weeks passed.

In the newspapers, we told that Draco Malfoy had had to be disintegrated or although he had to flee on another continent and to take a new identity.

One day, a serious argument burst between Ron and Harry.

The redhead threatened him to break the mirror if he did not react and he had almost succeeded in applying his threats when Harry had attacked his best friend.

Ron did not have anything low register, but Harry was so shocked to have raised his wand against him which he decided to listen to.

One month, two weeks and six days after the final battle, Harry veiled the mirror, veiled his heart, veiled his hopes.

From time to time, he still looked at under the hanging which covered the mysterious object that he had received in Christmas of his seventh year…

And a morning, almost automatically, he raised fabric.

This morning, instead of the veil sinks which seemed to cover the other mirror, he saw, somewhere he did not know where, a large room richly arranged with the windows largely open on a blue sky.

His heart missed a pulsation or two, his breathing was blocked before beginning again of more powerful.

He needed calm, they were perhaps only the new tenants of the place where Draco had placed during the war who aired the place…

Harry precipitated on his wand and always blown, he launched a fate of icing on the ice.

With the end of the finger, he traced as best as he could the first name of the one who did not leave his thoughts.

Draco? 

Almost immediately, a silhouette with back-light, long and gracious, materialized between the windows and the framework of the mirror.

The heart of Harry leaps madly in his chest.

This was him !

He recognized him !

He had learned how to distinguish him under a large heavy cape among so much of others, and there… he discovered him equipped with clothing close to the body.

Draco approached, a great victorious smile fixed on the lips.

And well, I hardly have just returned that you are already behind this trick? You missed me as much as that, that you spent your days to scan my return? 

"If you knew, poor idiot, as I missed you ! " murmured Harry, him so radiant of happiness.

_Come_, wrote Harry in the white frost.

Draco played as he was plunged in his thoughts like weighing for and against this proposal - his brilliant eyes of mischievousness however betrayed him.

Harry, losing his control at the same time as his patience, carried out something which did not seem possible to him hardly a few minutes ago - this is that, there… he wanted so much that nothing could resist to him…

His magic crackled of enthusiasm around him.

He had just crossed the mirror of his arm and tried to be seized of agreeably surprised Draco without reaching that point.

Aggravated, Harry crosses the mirror in entirety.

The feeling which he felt was not frankly unpleasant, fresh and light - for once that changed other means of wizard transport which turned over the stomachs like never.

Thus, he was found with knees in front of Draco Malfoy in an unknown place.

Lastly, since so a long time that he dreamed of this moment, he did not manage to carry out his chance, also, for autopersuader of the reality of Draco, in front of him, he detailed him initially very lengthily from top to bottom and upwards, and still and still.

The fair one did not seem any more tired, his rings had almost disappeared and his hair was close to the perfection which one associated him, soft and capped well. He wore gray clothing which resembled a muggle costume curiously, and Harry could not prevent himself from thus finding he still more sexy.

The brown one was raised slowly, curiously moved… this was not a dream, Draco was indeed opposite him and he smiled to him gently.

With hesitation and while trembling a little he approached his hand of the cheek of the former Syltherin and he seemed to him that Draco retained his breathing. When he touched finally the soft and pale skin, Draco closed the eyes of satisfaction.

"Where had you still passed ? " Harry murmured.

"This is a long history, you know. Almost an adventure. I was neat at Moldus… This famous day, I was wounded and disarmed and I lost consciousness. When I awoke the battle was finished, and it was dawning. There were many corpses and the Aurors collected the casualties. They would have found me, they would have sent to me in prison while waiting to be judged. I wanted to flee while transplanant but I did not find any more my wand. Then I succeeded in trailing me to a road and a muggle in the truck collected me and taken along in one their hospitals. "

Harry listened to the fair one almost religiously.

Draco told him also his stay in the hospital and his slow cure because of the inefficiency of the muggles to look after magic wounds.

He told him his wake up in this unknown place, how he had put out of order the apparatuses because of his magic when he was irritated and how in spite of that he had become the pet of all.

He told him how the muggle nurses had looked at filled with wonder "the most hideous tattooing which was given to them to see" being erased little by little supernaturally.

He told him how much he was now far from being a pure blood with all the muggle hematomas that one had poured to him in the veins and how, almost by chance, he had read in a muggle newspaper their denatured version of the victory, as well as the research of opinions.

"It appears that I am a hero of war ? I do not deserve as much glory, but account on me to benefit from it. "

Harry grimaça slightly, definitely Draco Malfoy would never change, but this was as that which he loved him.

"In short " Draco began again "when I understood that I was not going to finish in prison, I hurried to cure. I lost myself a little by moving me like the muggle and I returned here where I had hidden other wands. I was hardly airing that you appeared. "

Draco made a light installation before beginning again.

"I suppose that this is with you that I owe my freedom? "

Harry was satisfied to shake the head, slightly intimidated.

"I suppose whereas I must thank you ? " asked Draco by raising an eyebrow.

"No, no ! " Harry exclaimed constrained "it's me who has to thank you, what you achieved in this war was…"

"Harry" Draco crossed while approaching dangerously "Let me thank you" he whispered counters his lips.

When Draco embraced him, Harry thinks that, finally, he could thank him indefinitely well if he always did it this way. He clung to his neck because he had suddenly pressing, a furious desire for being closest to the body of the other.

Harry returned each caress, each blow of tongue to the centuple.

When he felt Draco to take his face crosses from there passionately, he was believed at the edge of the mental pleasure… they were however that with their first steps.

"Thank you…" Draco blew whereas one of his hands threaded under Harry's sweater to cherish his belly.

Harry cambered himself, instinctively trying to be made touch even more by the travelling hand.

"Thank you…" repeated Draco while posing his lips on Harry's neck, beginning to suck the flesh.

The former Gryffindor pushed a small moaning, his eyes being lost in vagueness. Draco was going to make him insane. He was so hot… By Merlin, which he never ceases thanking him !

Very continuously to devour Harry's neck, Draco let his hand be delayed with the edge of his trousers.

He felt him to be tightened and shiver whereas slowly he demolished the buttons of his fly.

"Draco…" murmured Harry a little lost.

The former Deatheater was filled with wonder to feel Harry Potter to vibrate against him, just because of his caresses… He could not be prevented from whispering to him of the extreme thank you' to the hollow for the ear while learning gradually the curves from this body so much desired.

He slipped his hand a little lower…

"Thank you…" he reiterated with a voice charge of desire before choking against his mouth a new moaning of pleasure.

He touched through the boxer, the vibrating desire of the old red and gold by murmuring tireless thanks like as many "I love you" with half acknowledged.

Harry clung almost hopelessly to Draco's shoulders. The feelings lavished by the hands and the lips of the fair one were too much strong and left him weak, just able to hold on his legs…

He thus let make when Draco took him along close to an armchair and attracted him on his knees so that he overlaps him. Harry reddens because in spite of the thickness of their clothing, he felt the undeniable excitation of Draco between his legs and that completed make him lose his last pieces of reason.

He putted to rub sensualy against the body of the fair one which let escape a long moaning. He clutched Harry's pants impatiently and left there the drawn up sex. The hand of the former Syltherin began a back and forth pass all the length of the rod tended to the extreme and Harry in answer accentuated the sensualy movements of his basin.

The moanings of the Survivor were increasingly noisy, Draco's hand showed to him stars. He moved still and still on the former Syltherin, cursing their clothes, and listening to his voice to stammer incomprehensible things. Harry answered automatically "Me also, me also… ", he did not know with what but he knew that this was the good answer.

Harry came in the hand from the former Syltherin without realizing that he planted his nails in his extreme back. Blown, the Survivor took again little by little his spirits and realized that he was collapsed as a headstock of rag in Draco's arms which cherished his back tenderly.

_Su_ddenly Harry was ashamed of his attitude, he had taken pleasure without anything of giving in return.

"H… hh… And you ? " Harry groans.

Draco innocently raised the eyes to the sky by making a small smile which wanted to be constrained - but that one understood easily one cannot satisfied any more.

"Me, I believe that I will have to change pants…"

They exchanged an accessory smile before Harry does not divert finally the glance.

"You… You do not believe that we went too quickly ? " he asked while passing a nervous hand in his hair.

"Oh, this is true that I did not think of passing so quickly to the serious things with you. I imagined you a little more savage…"

Harry looked at him astonished.

"You believed me virgin, or what? " he made with a scornful glance.

"Tss… I know about your performances with the fair sex, I recall you, Potter " Draco scoffed with a small sullen air.

"You were jealous, this day ? " asked Harry, an obstructed, but especially curious bit.

"Me, jealous? You looked at me well, Potter ? Is what I seem to be jealous ? " Draco launched aggressively on a … jealous tone.

Harry raised his eyebrows, skeptic, and, preferring to avoid answering the question, he leaned towards Draco to embrace him tenderly.

Draco did not remain grumpy a second more and he returned his kiss to the brown one before being forced to calm himself - he was, slowly but surely, becoming again hard.

He had, indeed, other things, more important, to make insulting to spend the day to smooch with the Survivor.

"Harry…" started he by cherishing the hair of the brown one gently. "I have other people to thank, if you allow me. "

Harry briefly wondered if he was to let the former Syltherin escape to him whereas hardly he found him. But seeing the decided glance, serious and become again frozen which scanned him until the bottom of his heart, he did not have courage to make a whim.

He shook simply the head by begging a small favour.

"Provided that you do not thank anybody as you did for me. "

"No risk " did the other by gently rubbing his nose against the cheek of the former Gryffindor.

Harry had learned finally that the other mirror was since the beginning in the apartment of the Draco Deatheater, an apartment very moved back and hidden in the old workings of London.

What a irony !

On a dark tone, Draco had answered that this was, in fact, very practical.

Harry henceforth promised himself to avoid all the subjects which could touch closely or by far with the war - in any event that arranged him rather well.

This was for becoming disillusioned almost immediately, Draco had just intertwined him for **transplaner** - oh well on he had wanted to follow him, at the beginning…

But now he was straightforwardly nauseated to have let himself take along without to have asked before where they went.

They were all two front the iron grid black and rusted of an immense cemetery.

The twisted tombs which exceeded of behind the thick stone wall invades ivy sinks were the recognizable seal of a wizard cemetery.

"This is really here that you wanted to come ? " asked Harry with a dull voice to Draco which put his hands in the pockets of his long jacket anthracite.

"Turns over at home, Harry. You know how to contact me in any event. You know even where I live now " Draco murmured while advancing already through the white gravel pathes.

During a long moment, Harry reflects if he was yes or not to listen to the council of Draco or if he were to follow him and to support him morally.

Himself had not gone to be collected on the tombs of its close relations. This was still too early.

He did not want really at all to go to visit deaths.

This place is infested phantoms, shit ! … And not of the cool phantoms as in Hogwarts ! Even the **Baron Sanglant** would type a depression here.

However Harry followed Draco's silhouette which outdistanced him of ten meters.

He did not know where he went, but that took time to reach that point, he seemed to him that they had crossed the cemetery over all his length.

He had had time to see tombs of all kinds, richly worked in the whitest marble, of simplest, the old women without age, dusty and collapsing, the ground heaps straightforwardly deprived of tomb stones…

From time to time, he saw an assembly of phantoms sitting on the tombs, pretence to discuss between them.

As they advanced the social caste of the buried wizards degraded herself at sight of eye, of alley in alley, however Draco still continued to advance.

He stopped finally in front of a large black stone and sinks, a simple rectangle in which had been simply cut the names of hundreds of wizard classified alphabetically. And all in top, something like a title, an epitaph, was marked: _Here are the enemies of peace_.

Harry saw that Draco sought among these names; as of where he was he was not able to decipher them, he approached a little.

The fair one looked at the second column, all in top, and Harry understood.

…

_Mah Oani _

_Malaga Laurence _

_Malfoy Lucius _

_Malfoy Narcissa _

…

The list still continued, and Harry saw that Draco a little low descended his glance on another name… he will brush the end of the fingers…

…

Parkinson Pansy 

…

During a long moment still Harry saw Draco traversing the tomb stone joining together all the names of the Deatheaters, being delayed particularly on that of _Goyle_, _Nott_, or _Snape_ and still on others which did not say absolutely anything to him.

Draco bent down to pose with ground a white rose, which he had revealed a little front, in front of the broad one and coarse stone.

He was turned over finally on Harry and he scanned him, the hands again in the pockets of his long coat.

"Draco? " Harry groans "we return ? "

"Harry, who will I would have become if I had been taken ? What would I have become if I had been locked up in Azkaban ? " asked the other, approaching gently.

Harry advanced, given, on Draco, surrounded him by his arms and transplaner to the 12 Grimmaud Square, in its room, right in front of the mirror.

"And well, I gave you a mirror, that do you think about it ? " made Harry a little mutineer, always holding the fair one in his arms.

"I think about it…" began Draco smiling too him "… that it had been a brilliant idea. "

"Pretentious…" Harry made fun before dealing with the lips of the former Syltherin.

"You wanted to say shining, don't you…" blew Draco between two kisses while making rock Harry on his bed.

End.

Please, send me reviews… In fact it's not for me, it's for the authors, they are very well-known in France and they are very kind. If you want other fics from them I MUST have many reviews…


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